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Who Desecrated Geronimo’s Grave?

“elected politicians
government by the people
for the people?

which people? ”

free and equal
representation of the people?
go tell that to Native

Americans
see if they believe?

or African Americans
who had their votes
discounted so bonesman

Bush could steal Florida
steal the White House?
'crooking' America

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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King Billy's Skull.

THE scene is the Southern Hemisphere;
The time — oh, any time of the year
Will do as well as another; say June,
Put it down likewise as the full of the moon,
And midnight to boot, when churchyards, they say,
Yawn in a most unmannerly way;
And restless ghosts in winding-sheets
Go forth and gibber about the streets,
And rehearse old crimes that were better hid
In the darkness beneath the coffin-lid.
Observe, that I merely say, on dit;
But though it never happened to me
To encounter, either in-doors or out,
A posthumous gentleman walking about,
In regulation sepulchral guise,
Or in shirt, Crimean or otherwise,
Or in hat and boots and usual wear,
Or, save for a cloud, unbecomingly bare,
Or in gaseous form, with the stars shining through him,
Beckoning me to interview him —

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poem by James Brunton Stephens
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Defeated Story poem for M lady Ernestine

A yellowed skull, still on display
above the oaken fire place
A relic from a by gone day.
Which it is possible to trace

back for five hundred years or more.
I hate the thing my host explains
grotesque against modern décor.
It can’t be moved or it complains.

The house re- echoes to its screams.
Until its back in place once more.
It’s been a fixture now it seems
Since fifteen hundred sixty four

Although it has been exorcised
and given Christian burial.
It’s very quickly recognised
there’ll be no peace until the skull

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Turn Around

I was working all night in my office
When a man I had recently killed
Called me up from a phone near my building
So I looked out the window at him
He had the same obsequious manner
That was the reason I had him killed
So to calm my nerves I sang this song
To him, over the phone
Turn around, turn around
Theres a thing there that can be found
Turn around, turn around
Its a human skull on the ground
Human skull on the ground
Turn around
I was out by myself in the graveyard
I was doing an interpretive dance
When I felt something heavy and pointed
Strike me in the back of the neck
And then the ghost of my dance instructor
Pushed me down into an open grave

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song performed by They Might Be Giants
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Skull Ring

(feat. The Stooges)
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Money
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Fancy things
The touch of a hand in the wasteland
you're walking asleep and dreaming cheap
A bird's wing don't beat for free
You're freezing cold and your family
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Money
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks

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song performed by Iggy Pop
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Rum & Red Bull (being a day after her birthday poem)

Out of our skull
on Rum & Red Bull

we play football
with a grinning

plastic skull
(retrieved from a skip)

using the Momento Mori
for a drunken kickabout.

You dribble
& drool it.

You shoot
I save it

tipping it over
an imaginary crossbar.

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poem by Dónall Dempsey
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V…Villa…Villalanelle

Break them at start of such a sulky day,
Though sick boys do fall for traps they make.
Never yield to the sad skull screams do they,

Just dance a dance midst dreary shadow play,
Though evil men and worldly beings of fake
Break them at start of such a sulky day,

Though often weep alone in chaos clay,
And keep poor brains which wrap their souls to take
Never yield to the sad skull screams do they,

And though naives and fools keep them from their way
And choke them blue as they stand in their wake
Break them at start of such a sulky day,

Sick Boys never mourn nor cry, so they say
Salt drenched drops seldom from their eyes do flake,
Never yield to the sad skull screams do they,

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poem by Sam Aleks
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Muskrat Skull, Albino Asteroid, Chunk of the Moon

Muskrat skull, albino asteroid, chunk of the moon
fallen to earth, ivory doorknob picked clean
by ants and wolves, half your teeth stacked like books
on a shelf behind the crescent moons of your fangs
and their reflections, as above so below,
that don't quite meet in the middle of the bridge
you're building like an engineer with overbite.
When I look down upon your cranium from above it's
a beautiful amphora, handles like arms at its side,
a woman hoisting her long skirt up to cross a river.

Musquash, you must be a holy food if they let the Catholics
eat you at Lent in place of fish because you spend
so much of your time aquatically. Do the wolves,
the owls, the foxes, the mink, the hawks, the fishers,
the feral dogs know they're enlightened
by the flesh of your body? You, alone, of all
the animals who tried and failed, the Gabriel
of the native creation myth that touched bottom
to bring back the starmud that made the earth,

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poem by Patrick White
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Redundant.

.

The skull that grins upon my desk
I picked up at a car boot sale
Although my taste me seen grotesque.
The skull reminds me without fail.
As he is now so will I be.
In time to come I too must die
I don't suppose he thought that he.
Would end up as a bargain buy.
When I am dead my skull may be.
An ornament that's on display.
On someone's desk quite possibly
What does it matter anyway.
Though it was mine it is not me.
It never was nor will it be.

Saturday,08 September 2012

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Listen...

There is a knocking in the skull,
An endless silent shout
Of something beating on a wall,
And crying, “Let me out!”

That solitary prisoner
Will never hear reply.
No comrade in eternity
Can hear the frantic cry.

No heart can share the terror
That haunts his monstrous dark.
The light that filters through the chinks
No other eye can mark.

When flesh is linked with eager flesh,
And words run warm and full,
I think that he is loneliest then,
The captive in the skull.

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poem by Ogden Nash
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